Ben thanked her. Then, before leaving, his request for Walker’s help to locate her client was met with the same response he got from Bristol.

“I have no idea where she is now, or who she is. I’d heard rumors that after completing their sentences the girls moved to Australia, or the UK or the US. Who knows? They’re free women now, free to live their lives and do as they choose.”

Ben’s next meeting was in Assiniboine Park.

Ed Tracy, the last of the girls’ lawyers, lived in a condo overlooking the park.

“Not much I can tell you but we can meet,” Tracy had said in his emailed response, giving Ben a time frame and directions to where he’d be.

Now Ben walked along park paths that meandered amid the roses, irises and other flowers, to the fragrant air of the English Garden. He found Tracy was sitting on a bench by the pond.

Ed Tracy no longer practiced law. Now in his eighties, his long white hair spilled under his panama hat. He looked rumpled in his white pants, white shirt, sleeves rolled up, leaning on a cane.

“Mr. Tracy?” Ben said.

Tracy’s sad eyes lifted to Ben and he nodded as he sat beside him. “Ben Grant.”

The two men shook hands.

“It’s beautiful here,” Ben said.

“So you want to know about the case?” Tracy’s voice was gritty and low and he coughed.

“Sir, I’d welcome any help I could get.”

“That’s a challenge for us lawyers.”

“Today I’ve been schooled in the laws that bind you to secrecy and protect names and details.”

“You’ve come far for a primer in Canadian criminal justice, Ben.”

Ben smiled. “Well I’ve got a lot of other work to do but, well, I’m getting the sense that there’s more to this story than was ever made public.”

Tracy looked out to the lush gardens. Hummingbirds flitted from flower to flower everywhere.

“You have good instincts and you write good books,” Tracy said. “I don’t think any of us, the lawyers for the girls, were satisfied that we’d taken the most effective defense strategy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Those girls entered the house to get the money, that’s a fact. But then what happened next, what really transpired—well… I think we failed to present an accurate picture for the jury.”

“Why’s that?”

Tracy looked up and down his cane. “Ben, the answer is fraught with complications and while I’m still breathing, I’m bound to carry all the answers with me to my maker.”

“I understand.”

“And that won’t be long for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Terminal. Doctor gives me one, two months at the most, so your timing is good.” Tracy coughed.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”